Summer Breeze
by KuryakinGirl
Summary: Ellie's a wiz in the kitchen but finds herself struggling with a different kind of recipe and seeks the assistance of a surprising expert mixologist.
1. Thursday

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Josh Schwartz and Chris Fedak. No copyright infringement intended. Any similarity to events or persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

Author's Notes: In the middle of a multi-chapter Chuck mission fic at the moment but this little sequence kept popping up and wanted to be written in the meantime. And, apparently in the subfreezing temperatures I'm experiencing at the moment, I'm imagining warmer climes. Further, I'm not sure if the drink described below is any good or not... but it certainly sounds like it might be. Lastly, unbeta'ed. Apologies for any glaring problems.

Update: No longer a one-chapter story, by request. Thank you, ZebZ and Nick. :)

Spoilers/Time line: General/Second Season

Summer Breeze: Ellie's a wiz in the kitchen but finds herself struggling with a different kind of recipe and seeks the assistance of a surprising expert mixologist.

She stood, mesmerized by the selection of bottles. All different sizes, all different colors. The liquid within looked surprisingly similar, but the tastes, she was well aware, varied even greater than the containers. Which was why she was desperately trying to remember what the waitress had said the week before.

A variety of fruity liqueurs, two kinds of rum...

Was it spiced rum? Dark rum? Light rum? Maybe it was three kinds of rum...

She picked up a bottle with a hula girl on the label for a moment, reading about the flavor, the history of the brand.

She should really just call the restaurant and get them to give her the recipe now that she was at the store, but for some reason she'd rather stand there, looking lost, than actually pick up the phone and make the call.

With a sigh, she placed it back on the shelf.

The Summer Breeze was going to be perfect for her girls' gathering the next night while Devon went off on one of his adrenaline weekends with his frat brothers. If she could only remember what was in it.

She didn't bother glancing up when the door opened and a man entered, clearly on a purpose. He did so few things in life that weren't planned in advance. This particular afternoon, he had cleared twenty minutes expressly for the purpose of entering his usual liquor store, picking up a bottle of single malt, and leaving. He'd make it back to his apartment with enough time to change into his infernal green polo and khakis to make it to his second job.

Something made him glance over, however, on his way to the scotch aisle. He let out a barely audible grunt, one that seemed to ask the heavens: really?

He couldn't get away from a Bartowski, even on his liquor run.

He watched as she bit her lower lip, her fingers hesitantly reaching out to another bottle. For a brief second, a thought entered his head, that he should ask if she needed help, but he wasn't sure where it had come from. Shaking his head, to try to clear the thought, he continued on, determined to complete his mission and get out as quickly as possible.

But he heard her sigh, even two aisles away, and something wouldn't let him just leave.

Grabbing his bottle of Glenlivet, he moved back towards her slowly.

He watched, from a safe distance, as confusion crossed her features. She placed another bottle back on the shelf. "Ellie?"

She looked up, then over her shoulder as he slowly approached, surprised to see her neighbor, John Casey. "John, hey."

"How's it going?" he asked.

"Good," she said, though her face said otherwise. "You?"

He nodded slowly, then lowered his voice slightly, almost conspiratorially: "What are you trying to make?"

She looked up at him sheepishly. "Is it that obvious?"

He shrugged casually.

"I had this amazing drink last week, and I can't remember the recipe for the life of me."

"Where'd you have it? What was it?"

"It's an awfully girlie kind of drink," she admitted.

"Try me."

She looked up at him, at the honesty in his eyes. What did she have to lose? He could say no, and she'd be back to rummaging around her memories in the dark, or, maybe he could help her. "We had dinner at Mitch's, and they had this wonderful fruity drink that was... it was beautiful, too, called a Summer Breeze."

"You don't want spiced rum," he told her, his blue eyes surveying the options in front of her. He placed his bottle of scotch on an empty space on the shelf for a moment.

"Wh... what?" she asked, watching as he selected a bottle of dark rum, and a smaller bottle of coconut rum, presenting them to her. "How did you...?" She placed them in the shopping basket at her feet.

How could he tell her he moonlighted as a bartender more often than not? "Had to make money in college somehow," he lied. "Do you have grenadine?"

She mentally went through the bottles in the small bar she had at home. "Yeah."

He grabbed his scotch again, and led her down a few aisles, to the fruited liqueurs. "Banana and apricot," he told her, nodding in approval at the brand choices she made, adding them to her basket. "From the grocery store, you're going to want fresh oranges and lemons. And, for sweetness, honey. Saves you from making your own simple syrup."

"John, I had no idea you were such a mixologist."

He shrugged. "How many are you making the drink for? Just you and Devon?"

"Oh, no, I'm having some girlfriends over tomorrow. My friends from the hospital, Sarah. She said she and Chuck didn't have plans, so..."

He exhaled, imagining that he might have a house guest the next night if Chuck didn't have anywhere else to go. He couldn't worry about that at the moment, however. "I don't get off till ten, but if you're still awake, I can help you with a dry-run tonight."

"That would be awesome," she said, her eyes lighting up.

He fought to prevent the grunt that threatened to emerge at her use of her fiancé's favorite word. "No problem."

---

Ellie set out everything John had helped her purchase on the kitchen counter. She'd located her bottle of barely-used grenadine and added it to the grouping. She had half a dozen each of oranges and lemons, and a large bottle of honey. She'd placed a cutting board, a paring knife, juicer, measuring cup, shaker with strainer lid, jigger, and a pair of high ball glasses on the counter as well. The only thing she didn't have out was the ice, and that was only because she wasn't sure what time he'd be arriving.

Her fiancé, Devon, had already called it a night, having to get up super early the next morning to hit the road for his long weekend. Her brother, Chuck, was working the closing shift at the Buy More with John, so she imagined they'd both be showing up at some point, hopefully sooner rather than later.

She leaned against the counter at the sink, surveying her mixing station. She knew there was so much more to John than he ever let on, but she never, ever, would've imagined "bartender" was in his repertoire. He had such an imposing presence that she could definitely see him as a bouncer. She had a harder time imagining him behind the bar, taking orders and pouring drinks.

Hearing the key in the lock pulled her from her thoughts, and she smiled, moving towards the living room to greet them.

"I appreciate you walking me to the door, Casey, but I think I'm good now," Chuck said as he wandered in.

"It's okay, Chuck; I invited him."

Chuck looked at his sister, confused. "Come again?"

"I've got everything set up in here, John," she said, motioning to the kitchen.

Chuck craned his neck to see what, exactly, was going on.

"Your sister was having a crisis this afternoon," John explained.

Chuck followed his sister and his NSA handler into the kitchen, and noted the assortment of items on the counter. "Of the alcoholic variety?"

"Did you know that our John, here, was a bartender in college?" Ellie asked, patting John on the back.

Chuck waited for the inevitable growl from the trained killer, because John always growled and scowled whenever he tried anything like that. He was surprised when it never came. "Really?" Chuck asked, greeted by a threatening look from John. It took him a moment to try to discern what he'd done to be on the receiving end of that look, but then he remembered. He remembered seeing John behind a bar more often than not, in any number of insane getups, pouring all kinds of drinks. "Y'know, actually, I can kinda see that," he said, flashing a brilliant grin.

"Well, if you don't mind, Chuck, I'm sure John's had a very long day and he's being so kind to work though this recipe with me tonight, so if you would just scoot," she said, shooing her brother out of the kitchen.

"Uh... Yeah, okay, I guess," Chuck said, taking a step back into the dining room and around the corner, but only just.

"Where do we start?" Ellie asked.

John handed her the shaker. "Ice."

Chuck remained perfectly still, curious.

Ellie filled the shaker with ice and tried to give it back to him, but he shook his head. "But, I..."

"The key," John began, "is the proportions."

She nodded dutifully.

"Bartowski, if you're going to spy on us, you at least want to make yourself useful and take notes for your sister?" John asked, never bothering to look over. He just knew the Intersect was there, lingering in the darkness.

Ellie was surprised to see the guilt in her brother's eyes as he appeared in the doorway again.

Chuck cleared his throat. "Yeah, sure," he said, grabbing the notepad and pen that lived near the phone in the living room, before taking up a spot at the dining room table.

John continued. "Until you've had practice, you're going to need to measure to keep it straight. Eventually, you start being able to eye the amounts," he told her.

"All right..."

He reached over, and turned the jigger, so the smaller side was up. "One part dark rum."

Ellie took a slow breath as she uncapped the rum he'd selected for her, and carefully measured the proper amount. She glanced slightly at John, who nodded when she moved to pour it into the shaker.

"Half part, coconut rum."

She understood now why he'd given her the smaller bottle of the flavored rum. Proportionally, she wouldn't need as much. Again, she measured with surgical precision, adding it to the shaker.

"Half parts each of your liqueurs, too," he told her.

She measured the banana first and moved to pour it in when he touched her elbow. Her breath caught in her throat and she stopped. "What?"

He reached over, snagging the bottle of apricot and opened it, handing it to her. "All gets mixed up anyway," he told her.

She glanced up at him, but only briefly, before adding the apricot directly on top of the banana.

As she added it to the shaker, John grabbed a lemon and started rolling it on the counter top, applying slight pressure. With his free hand, he slid an orange her way, and she began rolling it on the counter as well. "You're going to want one part orange, half a part lemon."

She nodded, soon slicing her orange in half and manually juicing it into the measuring cup. Filling the jigger, she added it to the shaker, then started on his lemon.

Chuck glanced up from his note taking when he realized they were quiet. John stood, his arms folded across his chest, a few respectful steps back from her, his blue eyes taking in everything Ellie was doing.

She added the lemon to the shaker. "Now?"

John reached over, picking up the honey. "This is the hardest part," he told her.

She took the bottle as he offered it to her.

"You're going to have to eye this one. A quarter part honey."

She bit her lower lip as she uncapped the bottle. "I can't measure it?"

"It'll stick to the jigger, or a spoon. It's easier to just pour it directly into the shaker," he told her.

Exhaling, she took the shaker in one hand and raised the honey above it, slowly beginning to squeeze. The tiny stream flowed from the bottle, and she watched as it layered in on top of the ice. Suddenly, though, she wasn't sure how much she'd put in, or if it was the proper proportion.

John was watching her rather than the dripping honey. He saw the panic start to take to her eyes. "It's all right," he said. "Three more seconds." The corners of his mouth twitched into what might've been a smile while he watched her lips wordlessly count.

As soon as she hit three, she immediately stopped the honey.

"Now, shake."

Ellie placed the honey on the counter and found the lid to her shaker, securing it. "There isn't a trick to the shaking?"

He shrugged. "Just don't turn it upside down."

"No, I'm serious, there's no... no timing, no movement I should be trying to accomplish?"

John reached over, manually adjusting her grip on the shaker, making sure she kept a few fingers atop the lid. "Go to town," he told her softly.

She licked her lips nervously as she started to shake.

"It won't break," he assured her, nodding his approval as she shook it a little harder. He spotted the two glasses on the counter, and pulled a third glass from the cabinet. He'd been over for enough dinners he knew, relatively, where Ellie kept everything. Crossing to the freezer, he filled it with ice, then distributed the cubes more evenly among all the glasses.

"How do you know when it's done?" she asked.

"How certain are you that all the flavors have been adequately mixed?"

"I... I'm not," she said.

"Keep shaking," he told her, leaning against the counter.

"This isn't a time thing?" she asked.

He shrugged. "More of a gut instinct thing."

She stopped shaking suddenly. "Wait, what about the grenadine!"

"Guess we're done shaking," he said. "Put the shaker down for a second," he said, handing her the grenadine.

She instinctively reached for the jigger.

"Another eye-ball step," he said, nudging a glass towards her.

She looked up at him.

"The drink at the restaurant, there was a thin layer of color on the bottom of the glass, right?"

She nodded.

"Add a little grenadine to the bottom of each glass."

She unscrewed the lid and hesitantly poured a smidgen in the bottom of the first glass. She looked to John for guidance.

He didn't offer it, not outright. "Sure that was what the bottom of the glass looked like?"

She closed her eyes, remembering back, and added just a little more. Confident that was what she remembered, she added the same to the second glass, then the third, smiling at the thoughtfulness of including Chuck in the drink testing. She recapped the grenadine before taking the top off the strainer lid.

Carefully, Ellie strained a portion of the drink into each glass. She was beaming when she handed John a glass, realizing that it looked *exactly* like the drink she'd had the week before. "Chuck," she said, "come try this, too."

Getting up from the dining room, he joined the others in the kitchen and took the glass Ellie offered.

"Cheers," Ellie said, beaming, as she tapped her glass to both John's and Chuck's before all three of them took a drink. "Oh, my God," she murmured.

It was not Chuck's kind of drink, or even his alter ego Carmichael's. "It's... very fruity," he managed.

"Fresh, light. Just the right balance of sweet and tart," John commented.

"Just like the drink at Mitch's," Ellie said, astonished. "The girls are going to *love* this, John. Thank you," she said, placing a hand lightly on his arm.

"You're very welcome," he said before downing the rest of his drink in one gulp. "Do you need any help cleaning up?"

She shook her head. "I've got this. You've done more than enough. I really appreciate the help."

"It's no problem," he assured her.

"Let me walk you to the door," she said, taking his empty glass.

"It's not necessary, Ellie. Good luck mixing tomorrow, though if tonight is any indication, you won't need it."

"I'll take that as a high complement, from a former professional bartender."

John offered her a real, albeit brief, smile. "Good night, Ellie. Chuck."

Stay tuned...

Lines from the next installment:

"You don't want to go?" Off Sarah's half-hearted shrug, he continued: "Why'd you agree to it?"

"I didn't!" she said, moderately indignant. "Well, not exactly. Ellie was very persistent. She wouldn't take no for an answer."

Idly, John wondered what a terrorist might do under the interrogation of one Eleanor Faye Bartowski.


	2. Friday

For notes and disclaimer, please see part one.

Here are some things you might need to know, or maybe you just forgot: Casey finds Ellie lost in the middle of the liquor store and uses his hidden talents to help her recreate a cocktail from a local restaurant for a girl's night in at Casa Bartowski.

His shift at the Buy More wasn't scheduled to start for another hour, but he had to stop by somewhere else in the mall first, for his other, more important job. He slipped into the Orange Orange yogurt shop, past the empty tables and the vacant front counter, into the employee's only section. He stopped for biometrics scanning at the freezer door, and was soon walking through the secret entrance to the Castle, the top-secret headquarters for the Intersect project.

His partner, Sarah Walker, was already there, glumly watching the computer screen in front of her. She glanced up as he descended the stairs into the base. "Hey, Casey."

"Walker," he returned. "Hear you have plans this evening," he said casually as he dropped his black backpack on the conference table. "With a different Bartowski."

"You heard that, huh?"

"Seems my intel was right." He noted well that his partner seemed anything but enthusiastic about the prospect of a "Girl's Night." Something was bothering her.

"Do you think it would be problematic to cancel?"

"You don't want to go?" Off Sarah's half-hearted shrug, he continued: "Why'd you agree to it?"

"I didn't!" she said, moderately indignant. "Well, not exactly. Ellie was very persistent. She wouldn't take no for an answer."

Idly, John wondered what a terrorist might do under the interrogation of one Eleanor Faye Bartowski. He shoved that thought aside quickly. "Why don't you want to go?"

"I don't know..."

"Are you sure this isn't a conversation better aimed at your pseudo-boyfriend?"

She shook her head immediately. "It's unprofessional."

He grunted, a sound full of irony. If it was unprofessional for her to talk about it, why was she asking him?

"Chuck would read too much into it and you know it," she said, annoyed. "That's what I meant."

"What are you scared of? You could take Ellie and all of her doctor friends without breaking a sweat."

"It's..." She paused. She hated to think of it as a fear reaction, but that was exactly what it was, and there was nothing more frightening than the unknown: "What happens at a Girl's Night?"

"How the hell am I supposed to know?"

"You didn't pick anything up on your surveillance?"

"The only thing I know for certain is that there's alcohol involved, but that came from running into Ellie at the liquor store yesterday," he told her. "Everything else? I'm in the dark, same as you."

Sarah nodded, watching as John set about his morning Castle ritual. She let him work in silence for a few minutes, but not for long: "It's just that I've never been to a Girl's Night."

John fought the urge to roll his eyes as he groaned.

"My best girlfriend in the entire world is Carina. While getting together with her is always an adventure, it's hardly what normal people might call 'sane.' I'm sure that Ellie and her friends don't get together and spar, clean their guns, reminisce about missions gone by or talk in various foreign languages."

"Walker, I'm really not the person you need to be talking to about this."

"Who should I be talking to? I can't talk to Chuck, I can't talk to you... that doesn't really leave anyone."

"Well, there's Carina."

"Last I heard, she was on a deep cover mission. I'm not sure where she is or what name she's going by these days."

"Surely there's another woman you could talk to about this."

Sarah shook her head, shrugging sadly.

John looked at the bank of computer screens, all with the Office of the Director of National Intelligence logo on them. "There's always Beckman," he said with a smirk.

"You're no help, Casey!"

"I'm the wrong gender, Walker."

"You're my partner."

"You want my opinion as your partner?"

Sensing that as an opportunity for more of a straight answer, she nodded. "Please."

"Go to the party."

She frowned. "What?"

"It is my opinion, for the continued health of your cover relationship with Bartowski, that you need to hang out with his sister. Your country needs you to go."

She could always count on John for the black and white take on what lay in front of them. There were no gray areas for her partner. And nothing was more clear than the need to follow orders, to protect America. She nodded dutifully. "Thanks, Casey."

He gave a slight nod as well, but added: "But, if I were you, I wouldn't go in completely empty handed. Those doctor types can be skilled with a scalpel..."

---

She took a deep breath for a moment before knocking. It was a mission, she told herself. She'd been in worse situations, in far more dangerous situations. A couple hours with a couple civilians should be no problem. And she'd taken John's advice: under the leg of her jeans, she wore her ankle knife sheath, just in case.

The fruit tray in her hands, however, seemed unbearably heavy as she heard the clip-clop of heels make their way to the front door from inside the apartment.

Maybe she could feign tiredness and bail after an hour. Maybe after thirty minutes... Maybe, if she were truly lucky, there would be a national security emergency and she would have to leave after ten.

Ellie grinned broadly as she opened the door to find her brother's girlfriend there. "Sarah! I'm so glad you could make it."

"Hi, Ellie," Sarah said, hoping to erase all traces of nervousness out of her smile.

"That tray looks absolutely delicious," she said, welcoming her in. "We've got Alicia's famous spinach dip, my special guacamole. You've got to see the cookies that Nancy baked. And, did you have any idea that John Casey used to be a bartender?"

Sarah was quickly caught up in the whirlwind that was Hostess Ellie. Before she knew what happened, she was introduced to the entire group, meeting Karen, the admitting clerk, Alicia, from billing, Nancy from oncology, and Hillary, a pediatric nurse.

Everyone seemed nice enough but Sarah still felt out of place, which Ellie was intuitively able to pick up. "Alicia, find us something good to listen to, would you?" she asked. "There's plenty of CDs by the stereo, there might be a good station..." As Alicia crossed the living room to take care of the music situation, Ellie smiled at Sarah. "Help me in the kitchen?"

"Oh, um... sure," Sarah said, following Ellie away from the rest of the crowd.

"Is something wrong?" Ellie asked quietly as she checked on the status of the roasting chicken in the oven. The cheerful beat from the radio helped cover their conversation.

"What? Of course not."

"Are you sure?"

"Ellie, it's just... been a long week, and I don't really know anybody here except you."

"I was kind of afraid of that," Ellie said, standing and closing the oven door. "You spend so much time with Chuck and the guys from the Buy More that you're missing out on the other side of life."

Ellie was right in more ways than she would ever know, but Sarah could never tell her. "You figured that out, huh?"

"I just assumed, if I needed a break from Devon and Chuck for a night, then maybe you needed one, too. With completely girlie drinks and scrumptious food and wait till we break out the Taboo," she said with a smile.

"You do this often, Girl's Night?"

"We used to a lot more frequently. Now, everybody's schedules are so crazy," she lamented.

"They do tend to fill up quickly," Sarah said, looking at the ice in the bottom of her empty glass.

Ellie quickly refilled Sarah's empty glass. "Is this not the best drink you've ever tasted?" She couldn't help but smile. "John Casey. Who would've ever known?"

Sarah smiled back. "It is good."

---

He groaned when he watched the red blinking indicator light on his computer return to the apartment complex. He'd been relieved when Chuck had left shortly before the Girl's Night at Ellie's began, because it must've meant he found other arrangements for the evening.

The fact that Chuck came back could mean one of two things: either Morgan had convinced him to come spy on the ladies across the courtyard or that he was coming to crash John's evening.

To his chagrin, there was a knock at his door. Getting to his feet slowly, he crossed to the front door, not bothering to scan the person on the other side because he knew it had to be Chuck. Opening the door, he scowled. "Bartowski."

Chuck held a pizza box and a six pack of beer. "I come bearing gifts..."

"Aren't you supposed to be far from here?"

"As one of my handlers, shouldn't you want me easy to locate? I would think, me, on your couch, you... doing whatever it is you do on a Friday night, would be, y'know, beneficial..."

"You are easy to locate," he said, pointing to Chuck's watch.

"All right, well, Ellie threatened me with bodily harm if I went to see Morgan because she's sure I would spill the beans on her evening plans and Morgan would find an ingenious way to ruin them, so I had to go somewhere."

"And you picked here?"

"I brought dinner," he said again, showing the pizza box.

John growled, but let him inside.

"See, buddy, this'll be great," Chuck said, quickly entering the apartment. "We'll eat and drink as men do and..." He saw that the television was on. "Watch TV," he said with a grin. He tilted his head to one side curiously, however, as he realized it was an old movie. "Is that Reagan?"

The screen suddenly went black.

Chuck turned, spotting the remote in John's hands. "Who am I gonna tell, huh? I can keep secrets! Besides," he said as he put the pizza on the coffee table, "it's not like I didn't know you were a fan. Between the framed photos and the bust..."

"Park it and eat, Bartowski," he grumbled, grabbing a beer.

"All right, all right," Chuck said, dropping into a chair and grabbing a slice. "But, just because I'm here doesn't mean you can't watch your movie."

"And hear you snicker the rest of the night? I don't think so."

"You know, I think Ellie's got you pegged."

John looked up quickly. Pegged? Was his cover compromised?

"She's always thought you were... sweet," Chuck said, having a hard time getting the word out. "I've always had a hard time getting past the muscles and the scars and the grunts myself, but she doesn't."

"You got a point, Bartowski?" he asked, taking a piece of pizza from the box before leaning back in his chair.

"It's the only rational explanation," Chuck began, "for helping her yesterday."

He chewed slowly, buying time. "I have to have a reason to help your sister?"

"C'mon, Casey, you're a spy. Your default position is to lie. You could've very easily told her you didn't know the first thing about mixing drinks. Instead, you go above and beyond the normal call of duty and help her out."

"Isn't that what neighbors do?"

"In case you haven't noticed, Casey, I barely know any of our other neighbors. And none of them have ever showed up, after a crazy day at work, to help Ellie with, well, anything."

He took a long drink of his beer. "Our cover includes our being friends," he said, his voice strained on the last word. "It's only natural for a friend to help another, or to offer assistance to a friend's family."

"So, it was all just to preserve the cover?"

Of course it was. John grunted affirmatively.

Chuck let it go, choosing instead to enjoy his dinner in relative silence. It was peaceful but sort of awkward, just sitting and eating. "So, I was thinking..."

He groaned again, annoyed with a mix of disgust.

The Intersect continued, undeterred. "...that you should totally let me plug in your headphones over there and listen in on--"

John narrowed his eyes at Chuck, turning the television back on.

"Oh, that... that's great. Seriously? You aren't the least bit curious about what's going on over there?"

"No."

"It could be interesting! It could be juicy. It could be... worthy of national security covert surveillance."

"If there's anything pertinent to the safety of our country, Sarah'll catch it."

"You're no fun."

John shrugged, turning up the volume.

"What is this anyway?" Chuck asked, looking at the black and white images on the television.

"Hellcats of the Navy. Now hush."

That order worked on Chuck, for exactly thirty-three seconds. "Why do you do it?"

John struggled to remain calm as he asked: "Do what?"

"I mean, I know I'm not your most favorite person in the world. I'm no spy and you're no good at dealing with people who aren't, so why do you do it? Why do you put up with me? With the 'orders'?"

"Because you've served your country honorably, if annoyingly," he said, pointedly. "Are we done?"

"I stand by my earlier observation," Chuck said, taking a drink of his beer. "Maybe Ellie was right."

John sighed heavily before propping his boots up on the coffee table.

---

After a round of Taboo, dinner, and more drinks, the ladies sat around the living room. Ellie's legs were folded under her on arm chair. "I just don't get it," she said. "Why he feels this need to be an adrenaline junkie, why he wants to take... completely pointless risks, y'know?"

Sarah glanced up as something seemed to click in her head. She had the same problem with Chuck: his refusal to stay in the car. It was the Nerd version of Captain Awesome's pointless risks.

"Rational people don't jump out of planes unless the plane is going down, y'know?" said Ellie, shaking her head.

"Exactly," Hillary said, nodding her head in agreement.

"He doesn't have to prove anything to me," Ellie said. "But for some reason he has to prove something to himself that I just... I just can't wrap my brain around it to save my life. I'm glad we have the opportunity to have this night, but at what cost, y'know?"

Sarah spoke up: "There are easier ways for them to have a male bonding outing. I mean, they could just go bowling or something." Chuck could just obey the orders issued by her, by John, by the General. There was no need for him to go running off into the middle of the action, to go off where she can't find him, where she can't keep him safe.

Ellie nodded emphatically. "Exactly, Sarah!"

"But, no matter how many times we tell them, they still refuse to listen," Sarah said.

Ellie suddenly frowned. "Wait... Chuck has issues with... adrenaline?"

"Just, not listening," Sarah said. "He's a great guy, and I..." She almost answered a little too truthfully. "I care about him, deeply, I worry about him, y'know? And yet there are times..."

Nancy jumped in. "Oh, honey, there are always 'those' times."

"You just want to ask them: what were you thinking?" Alicia added.

"Boys," Karen said, shaking her head.

---

He looked up when he heard the knock at his door. It couldn't have been Chuck. The Intersect was currently passed out in front of his television. It couldn't have been Sarah either; she would've called. Getting to his feet, he moved to answer it. "Ellie."

She smiled softly, but looked tired. "Hey, John. I was wondering if you might've seen my brother around this evening. I banished him pretty early in preparation for Girl's Night."

"If you mean that snoring lump in my living room, yeah, I've seen him," he said, taking a step back into his apartment.

Ellie peeked her head in. "I'm sorry, I guess we got a little too gabby."

"It's all right," he told her. "I'll get him moving."

"Thanks," she said, taking a single, cautious step into his apartment. She glanced around casually, taking in the maps on the wall, the computer set up, the tri-folded flag in a case. She had a feeling there were dozens more layers she may never fully understand about the mysterious John Casey.

"Rise and shine, Bartowski," he said, nudging Chuck's legs from where they were resting, propped up on the coffee table. One Converse sneaker hit the floor, followed by the other.

Chuck rubbed his eyes tiredly. "What time is it?"

"One in the morning," John told him. "Time to go home." When Chuck didn't move or respond right away, he continued: "Ellie's here."

"El?" He strained to focus, getting to his sleepy feet. "Hey, sis," he said, spotting her just inside the apartment. "How was the girl time?"

"It was just fine. But, we should get going, Chuck. I think the two of us have imposed on John enough," Ellie said, nodding in his direction.

"It was no trouble," John insisted as he walked Chuck to the door.

"G'night, Casey," Chuck said, easing past Ellie and into the courtyard.

Ellie lingered an extra moment. "Thanks for being such a great friend to Chuck," she said quietly. "And for a wonderful drink. It was definitely the highlight of the party."

He shrugged, but as she turned, he stopped her. "Hey, Ellie?"

She glanced back.

"Thanks," he began haltingly, "for inviting Sarah along to your party. She probably needed that more than either of you realize."

The words seemed to come out somewhat stilted, but it was clearly something he felt needed to be said. She nodded. "Good night, John."

He held a hand up, watching as she and Chuck crossed the courtyard to their apartment. He waited until they were safely inside before closing his own door.

End.


End file.
